


He's with the band

by AwkwardTiming



Series: Boy in a Rock and Roll Band [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Band Fic, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Teen Sherlock, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardTiming/pseuds/AwkwardTiming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The restaurant was a twenty minute walk away and they spent the first five walking in silence. </p><p>It was John that broke the silence. “Look, this is probably totally out of line, but can I kiss you?”</p><p>Sherlock stumbled, righted himself, and stopped to stare at John. “What?”</p><p>“It’s just. Watching you? That was seriously the sexiest fucking thing I’ve seen and I would really like to kiss you. If you’re up for it. If it wouldn’t be too weird since we just met. Or you can just ignore me and we can pretend this never happened.”</p><p>Sherlock just stared, too shocked to reply.</p><p>“Right. Ignoring it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's with the band

**Author's Note:**

> Couple quick things: 1) age of consent for the purposes of this story is 16. Everyone in the story is of age or older. 2) I can also be found on tumblr (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/awkwardtiming) or gmail (awkwardtiming@gmail.com). Feel free to let me know what you think - good or bad. 3) I could use help with appropriate tags. Let me know if you have suggestions.
> 
> Originally published 6/15/15. Second chapter is mostly a link to part 2.
> 
> Hope you like!

Sherlock watched as Mycroft drove away. He resented that Mycroft wouldn’t just let him stay home alone, but at least it was Greg and not one of the never-ending streams of baby-sitters disguised as tutors Mycroft usually preferred. It had been six months since the last time Sherlock had disappeared and he’d tried to explain to Mycroft that he wouldn’t happen again any time soon, but Mycroft clearly didn’t believe him. Sherlock sighed and knocked on the door.

Mycroft had said Greg was taking him to a concert. That had the potential of not being completely dull. Sherlock stepped in as the door was opened by Greg’s bandmate, Sally.

“Greg!” Sally called, after closing the door behind Sherlock. “The kid’s here.” With that, she wandered toward the back of the apartment where Philip’s room was, fastening her earring as she walked. Philip was Greg’s roommate.

Sherlock glared at her retreating back, then smirked as he realized she was wearing jeans, meaning that Philip was not joining them on whatever they were doing for the evening, likely because he had a date with his actual girlfriend.

“Hey Sherlock,” Greg said, walking into the living room. He frowned. “You’re, uh, a bit overdressed for this evening. Didn’t Mycroft tell you we’d be going out?”

“Am I? He said it was a concert.”

“I’ll kill Mike later,” Greg said, shaking his head. “I told him to let you know this would be casual – it’s a gig not the symphony.”

Sherlock snorted. “Does he know you call him that?” Greg smirked. “Right. Never mind. I will be deleting that later.”

“What you have on would be fine if you were in jeans. If you weren’t such a skinny bastard, I’d loan you a pair of mine. Maybe Anderson’s since he’s still home?” He caught the look on Sherlock’s face. “It’s that or the pair Clara left last time she stayed over. And we’ll have to cuff Clara’s to make it look like you intend them to be short. She’s tall, but not that tall.”

“I think I’d rather wear a girl’s jeans than anything that’s been anywhere near Anderson’s dick.”

Greg barked out a laugh. “Come on then. We’ll get you sorted and head out.”

Sherlock followed Greg down the hall. “Where are we going?”

“We have a show tonight at a new place. I thought you’d enjoy coming out and seeing it live instead of just what we look like when we practice.”

“How are you going to get me in?”

“Kid, you’re with the band.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to complain that he was not a kid, but stopped himself. Greg’s tone was fond, not mocking as Sally’s had been. And he was taking him out. To something that would not have had Mycroft’s immediate approval. This could be fun.

Once in his room, Greg pulled out a pair of dark was skinny jeans and tossed them to Sherlock. “Throw those on.” Sherlock nodded and changed out of the trousers he’d had on. The jeans were a close fit, but fit they did, sitting lower on his hips than his own jeans would have done and more snugly. They were surprisingly comfortable and not entirely hard to move in. Greg looked over and gave a nod. “Socks off, but the shoes you have on will work fine. No, don’t tuck the shirt in.” He pulled a light grey vest out and tossed it to Sherlock. “Throw that on, but leave it unbuttoned. And roll up your shirt sleeves.” He came over and knelt, cuffing Sherlock’s jeans so they were just slightly above his ankle. “Now we just need to fix the hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Sherlock glanced at the mirror and smoothed his hand over his carefully gelled hair. It took effort to get his natural curl to lay that smoothly. 

“Nothing, for government work or your extra posh school. You and your brother look so alike with your hair like that.” Greg walked over to his dresser and pulled out a small pot. “Come here.” Sherlock went. “Bend.” Sherlock inclined his head and Greg ran his hand smoothly once through his hair, loosening the strands. Then, a bit rougher, he ran his fingers in all directions. Sherlock was fairly certain it would look like he’d been in the middle of a storm at sea when it was done. “One sec and I’ll let you look.” Greg dipped his fingers in the small pot of wax, tugged at the tips of Sherlock’s hair, and took a step back. “There. Look.”

Sherlock looked in the mirror and tilted his head. He liked it. His hair was messy, but in a good way. The outfit was casual, but not too far off something he would normally wear. He looked – he liked it. Maybe he could make this his non-school look. He met Greg’s eyes in the mirror and nodded, then grinned. Greg returned the grin and nodded toward the door.

Sherlock was nervous as they approached the door. In his normal life – school or the lab – he was confident, but this was so far outside normal for him he wasn’t quite sure what to do. In the end, he didn’t need to worry. Greg told the man at the door that Sherlock was with the band and he waved both of them in without a word.

“I’m going to go get set up. Don’t drink and don’t leave the main area without telling me. The new drummer’s here, so I’m going to grab him.”

Sherlock nodded. “I’m just going to go sit at that table,” he said, indicating a two person table tucked into a corner.

“Great. I’ll come check on you before we start the first set.”

Sherlock watched as Greg talked to … Stamford? The man was shorter than Greg and softer, but he fiddled with his drumsticks as they talked and Sherlock could tell that he was more than able to keep up with Greg’s band. Sally approached, her brows drawn together in a frown. Whatever she said caused Greg to scowl. Sally held her hands up placatingly. Sherlock studied them. Dimmock. Dimmock must not be able to come. Which meant they’d have trouble with the couple of songs he sang. Normally not a big deal, but they were some of their better songs and this was a new venue, so they’d want to impress.

Sherlock moved on, the problem of the missing guitarist not particularly interesting. Looking at the bar, he watched as one of the bartenders poured a shot and pocketed both payment and tip, cancelling the drink order instead of completing the transaction. He was so intent on watching the bartenders ply their trade that he missed Greg’s approach until Greg spoke.

“Sherlock?”

“Yeah?” he said, turning back.

“You know our set, right?”

“I know what songs you usually do, yes.”

“No, I mean you can play the songs in our set.”

Sherlock snorted. “On violin, yes. But that’s hardly useful.”

“Do you play guitar at all?”

Sherlock just stared at Greg, catching on to what Greg was about to ask.

“Would you try? Dimmock’s broken his foot and can’t make it.”

“I don’t really like playing in front of people.”

“We will do whatever you want next time you stay with me.”

“Whatever?”

“Seriously. Anything.”

“Morgue?”

“You are so weird, but yes. I’ll talk to my mom. We can go check out corpses in the morgue.”

“Fine. Can we run a couple songs somewhere else before the set?”

“I’ll go check with the manager. Can you run out to my car and grab my other acoustic from the trunk?” 

Sherlock nodded and Greg tossed him the keys. “I’ll meet you by the stage.” Sherlock said before walking off.

When he got back, Greg was waiting with Sally and new guy – Mike. 

When they got back to the storage room where the manager had said they could warm up, Greg shut the door and handed Sherlock a set list. “Anything you don’t recognize on there?”

Sherlock read the list. “No, I know these.”

“Ok, good.”

“Do you expect me to sing the two Dimmock would usually sing?”

“How do you sound singing?”

“My voice is deeper than Dimmock’s but shouldn’t be too bad. We’ll need to slow down Under My Skin, though, if I’m singing it.”

“Sure. Can I show you the chords?”

“Sure.”

“Ok. Here.” Greg showed him what he’d need for the songs and Sherlock watched intently. He thought, briefly, about explaining that he did, in fact, play guitar, just not usually Never Say Yes’s songs. They ran through a few of the songs as a group, with Mike banging against the boxes in place of his drums. When he finished Under My Skin, Greg looked at him and grinned. “This. This is going to be good. Let’s go.”

Sherlock was nervous through the first song, but by the start of the second, he’d settled in and was enjoying the music and playing with other people for once. It was surprisingly fun as long as he ignored the audience.

At the end of the first half, Greg set his guitar in the stand and Sherlock followed suit. “Come on. Clara’s here with her new girlfriend. Let’s go say hi.”

Sherlock nodded and followed Greg to a table where Clara – a friend from his crim law classes – was sitting with a short blonde snuggled in to her side. 

“Hey, Greg. Nicely done. You guys sound solid tonight. And Sherlock – I thought you were going to be sitting back with us.” She grinned up at Sherlock.

“Dimmock couldn’t make it.” Greg supplied when Sherlock just looked at him rather than reply to Clara.

“Here, Clara, Harry – I got the – “ Sherlock turned at the voice of a new comer and felt his eyes widen. Clearly Harry’s brother, the man was slightly shorter than Sherlock, but broader. Muscled shoulders, close cropped blond hair, dark eyes. Sherlock wondered if they would be blue or brown in light. “Drinks,” he finished, handing the drinks in his hands to the women sitting at the table, still staring at Sherlock.

“Thanks, Johnny,” Harry said.

“This is Greg Lestrade,” Clara provided, “and Sherlock Holmes. Greg’s the leader of the band and Sherlock’s filling in.”

“Really?” John said to Sherlock. “That’s incredible. I would never have known.”

“Wait, Sherlock. Are those my jeans?” Clara asked.

Sherlock felt his face go bright red. “Uh, yeah. Greg gave them to me to wear tonight. My trousers were too…”

“Formal,” Greg supplied.

“Well, you can have them,” Clara said decisively. “They look better on you.”

“Yeah, they do,” John said. “I mean –“

Greg saved John from saying anything else with a hand on Sherlock’s arm. “We need to head back up.” He looked back at the group at the table. “We’ll catch you after, yeah?”

“We’ll be here.”

Greg leaned over to whisper in Sherlock’s ear, “I think you have a fan.”

“He’s straight.”

Greg pulled back. “You can’t possibly know that,” he replied, incredulous.

“He just broke up with his girlfriend. You can tell in the way his sister kept watching him. She’s got an alcohol problem, but Clara’s helping with that, so he’s not here to keep her from drinking. She’s watching him, but he’s not drinking, so something else. Breakup, but not with a guy. Clara didn’t encourage his comment, meaning he didn’t mean it flirtatiously or she doesn’t expect him to flirt with other men. If he’d said something similar to a girl, she would have pushed for more. She didn’t like his ex and wants him to get over her.”

“I guess the logic’s there, but – ” Greg looked back at the table where Harry was leaning over to John who was shaking his head and looking where Harry was pointing to a cute female server. Or maybe Sherlock’s right. “I will never understand how you do that.”

Sherlock shrugged. 

When everyone was back on stage, Greg said, “Let’s switch the last two songs and end with Sherlock. Sound ok?”

Everyone agreed and as the final note faded from Under My Skin at the end of the set, the atmosphere in the bar was electric. They accepted the congratulations as they broke down and loaded their cars. Then went back in to where Clara, Harry, and John were sitting. 

“We were thinking of grabbing food at Peppy’s. You lot want to come?” Greg asked.

“I’m in,” said Clara. “If that’s ok?” she looked to Harry for confirmation.

“Sure. John, you coming?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Sounds … good.”

“I’ve got to drive,” Greg said, “but we can all fit if, uh…”

“I’ll just walk,” Sherlock said. “It’s not far. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not walking on your own.” Greg said. “We can make this work.”

“Why don’t I walk with Sherlock?” John said. “Harry and Clara can take the ride.”

Greg looked between the two and caught Sherlock’s eye with a grin. Sherlock gave a quick, quelling shake of his head. Greg continued to grin, but led the way out of the bar. “We’ll see you there. Get a table for 10 if you happen to arrive first.”

“Got it,” John said. “See you soon.”

The restaurant was a twenty minute walk away and they spent the first five walking in silence. 

It was John that broke the silence. “Look, this is probably totally out of line, but can I kiss you?”

Sherlock stumbled, righted himself,  
.  
and stopped to stare at John. “What?”

“It’s just. Watching you? That was seriously the sexiest fucking thing I’ve seen and I would really like to kiss you. If you’re up for it. If it wouldn’t be too weird since we just met. Or you can just ignore me and we can pretend this never happened.”

Sherlock just stared, too shocked to reply.

“Right. Ignoring it.” John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s fair. I probably sound like a groupie. Let’s just. We should probably keep walking, yeah? Before people wonder where we are.” John started to walk again but Sherlock stayed rooted to the spot.

John stopped and turned around. “Coming?”

“Yes.” Sherlock shook his head. “I mean, yes. Please.”

“Please what?” John asked, confused.

“Kiss me. Please.”

For someone not terribly tall, John could move. In the space of a moment, he’d crowded Sherlock up against the brick of the building, cradling his head and pressing Sherlock into the wall with his torso and hips while he guided their kiss.

If pressed, Sherlock would describe the kiss as cinnamon. The sharp fire on the tip of the tongue giving way to an inescapable heat. He heard himself groan and an answering chuckle as John nipped at his lower lip. Sherlock’s hips canted up and John slid a hand down to Sherlock’s ass, pulling him impossibly closer. Sherlock’s arms circled John’s lower back, his hands resting on John’s hips, clinging to him. John pressed in again, sliding his tongue wetly into Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock met him thrust for thrust until John pulled back. They were both panting as they stared at each other.

“Fuck,” John breathed out.

Sherlock swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Sherlock half laughed and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

John lifted a hand to run his fingers along Sherlock’s bruised lips. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Sherlock shook his head and opened his eyes. “Yeah, we should.” He dropped his hands to his sides. 

John pressed a soft, quick kiss to Sherlock’s lips, then stepped back and held out his hand. “Come on then.”

Sherlock slotted his fingers into John’s, marveling a bit at how right it felt.

As they neared the diner, Sherlock huffed out a short laugh.

“What?” John asked.

“I … I uh thought you were straight. Greg said he thought you were flirting with me earlier or trying to and I told him you’d just broken up with your girlfriend.” They had slowed to a stop and John was staring at him. “What?”

“I am. I mean, I did. Try to flirt with you. And just break up with my girlfriend. Sarah.” John looked just over Sherlock’s shoulder, debating something. When he looked back, it was clear he’d made a decision about something. “I’ve, uh. I’ve only dated women.”

Sherlock stiffened, frowning, and started to pull his hand back.

“No,” John tightened his fingers. “I mean, I’ve been attracted to other guys, but, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been as attracted to anyone – male or female – as I am to you.” He shook his head as Sherlock continued to frown. “Sorry. I’m completely cocking this up. I was trying to flirt. Terribly, but you were … and then that last song. I wanted to pull you off the stage and, well, yeah. Anyway. You’re not wrong, but you’re. I mean, if you’d be interested, maybe we can grab a coffee some time? How did you know anyway?”

They were outside Peppy’s now. Sherlock nodded, no longer frowning. “I just could. Greg says I read people really well. My brother’s better at it though.” He tugged his hand loose, despite John’s frown of protest. “Give me your phone,” Sherlock said by way of explanation, his palm outstretched, “I’ll put my number in.”

“Yeah. That would be good. Great. Here.” John handed Sherlock his phone and when he was done typing, they walked in and joined their friends, sliding into the two seats left for them between Greg and Harry. 

Greg was chatting with Sally, but leaned over to Sherlock once her attention switched to Mike. “Good walk? Took you guys a while.”

“It took 23 minutes.”

“It would usually take you 15 and I don’t buy that John’s a slow walker.”

Sherlock gave him a bland look that Greg saw right through. “So he was flirting,” Greg said with a smirk, taking in Sherlock’s slightly too-pink lips.

“And he did just break up with his girlfriend.”

Greg gave a nod of acknowledgement then looked to where John was sitting just beyond Sherlock. “Your brother should be here in a bit. Want me to get him to send you home on your own?”

“He won’t. Plus,” Sherlock slid his eyes to John, who was talking with Clara and Harry, then looked back at Greg, “I don’t think –“ whatever he was going to say was cut off by the feeling of a hand sliding down his thigh to cup his knee. 

“Or maybe I can convince him to take me home and you can find somewhere else to be for the evening.”

John, pressed against Sherlock’s other side, heard the last bit, and inserted himself into the conversation, “I’m sure you can stay with me and Harry tonight if you need a place to crash.”

“I – uh...”

“I mean the couch pulls out.” John colored slightly.

“Uh.”

“Sorry, it just sounded like maybe – “

Sherlock shook his head – he could feel Greg laughing behind him, but John didn’t seem to notice. “I might. Actually. If Greg goes home with my brother. I mean, normally I just sleep with my headphones in. But it will depend on my brother. He’s… protective.”

He felt Greg shift as the door opened and looked to see his brother walking in, still in his suit. Greg shifted over on the bench, making room for Mycroft who slid in and pressed a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips before leaning over to say hi to Sherlock.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes. You might have mentioned the type of concert it was.”

“Greg got you sorted,” Mycroft replied, as though that made up for not telling Sherlock more about the plans for the evening. Sherlock ignored Mycroft’s words, looking away and taking a sip of his coffee. He frowned when John removed his hand from Sherlock’s knee. Mycroft leaned in to greet Clara, who introduced him to Harry and John.

When Mycroft’s attention was distracted by Mike and Sally, John settled his hand back on Sherlock’s knee and shifted to whisper into Sherlock’s ear.

“So we’re clear, all I can think about is kissing you again. I hope you’re ok with coffee sometime being tomorrow.”

Sherlock shifted to whisper back, “I’m drinking coffee now.” He took a risk and nipped at John’s earlobe before pulling away and looking ahead of him. To an outside observer, he would seem calm. His heart was racing though as John’s hand tightened on his knee before sliding slightly higher.

Meanwhile, Mycroft was far from unaware of the interaction between John and his brother. He looked at Greg in question. 

“Your brother has an admirer,” Greg said, leaning in so that Sherlock wouldn’t overhear.

“Oh?”

“Mike knows him, actually,” Greg said, indicating the drummer. “Apparently they’re both on the med track.”

“Interesting,” Mycroft said, studying the blond.

“Actually,” Greg sat back, “Sherlock really saved us. Dimmock broke his foot and couldn’t make it, so Sherlock stepped in. He did quite well on the guitar.”

“Since he’s been playing nearly as long as he’s played violin, that’s hardly surprising.”

Greg laughed, then turned to glare at Sherlock. “You might have mentioned you play guitar.”

“I didn’t deny being able to play.”

“You let me show you how to play.”

Sherlock sighed. “I let you show me how to play your NSY’s songs. I’ve never played them on guitar, just violin.”

Greg just shook his head then turned back to Mycroft. “I’m about ready to head out. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow. Are you – “

“Mine, I think. More fair to Anderson and Dimmock.”

“Less fair to your brother.”

John took the opportunity that presented itself at Greg’s words, “Sherlock can stay with Harry and me. There’s room.”

If Mycroft was surprised or suspicious, he hid it well. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock looked at John before turning to his brother. “Uh, yeah. If John doesn’t mind, I’d rather not hear you two after a week apart.”

“Certainly. Text me the address and I’ll send a car for you at 10 tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, My. I know. Lunch with our parents.”

Mycroft smiled, amused at Sherlock’s long-suffering tone. “Yes, lunch with our parents.” He stood and held a hand out to Greg. “Shall we?”

Greg slid his hand into Mycroft’s and stood as well, waving goodbye to everyone. 

Sherlock was listening to John chat with Mike when Greg came jogging back in. He leaned in to whisper to Sherlock and pressed something into his palm. “Dimmock’s staying with Ann and Anderson’s staying with Sally. Feel free to use my flat, just, you know, change the sheets?”

He was gone before Sherlock could reply and when John turned to him, question his eyes, all Sherlock could do was shake his head and show him the key.

Shortly, Mike, Sally, Clara, and Harry were all ready to leave, so Sherlock and John left as well, heading for Greg’s apartment.

They took their time walking back, chatting about nothing, fingers clinging together, John periodically tugging Sherlock into a convenient alley to press a quick kiss to his lips. Sherlock felt permanently off-kilter by the time they got back to Greg’s flat.

With hands that were not quite steady, he unlocked the door, John pressed up behind him, nuzzling the back of his neck.

Once inside, he toed off his shoes and turned to look at John, who was doing the same.

John looked up and read the uneasiness in Sherlock’s eyes and something seemed to occur to him. His posture lost some of its eagerness and he tilted his head, studying Sherlock. 

“How old are you?” he said, cautiously.

“16.”

“Ah,” John’s tone became wary, almost guarded.

“You’re 20.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not – this isn’t a first for me.”

“It is for me,” John replied, slightly amused and slightly less wary. 

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. His brain finally flipping on enough to realize he would need to take the lead if this was going to go where he wanted it to this evening. He was quite sure he didn’t want to wait for whatever mating rituals John might deem necessary given his new information.

“With a man, anyway.” He cleared his throat. “We could, I don’t know, watch a movie or something.”

“I’d much rather take off your clothes and see how quickly I can make you come.”

John choked. “Jesus.”

Sherlock shrugged out of the vest and started down the hall toward Greg’s room, hoping he was right in thinking that Greg would have condoms and lube readily available. Mycroft almost never agreed to stay at Greg’s. “Coming?”

He heard John trip in his haste to follow, only to trip himself as John’s hands found purchase on his hips and John all but frog-marched him the rest of the way to Greg’s room.

“Greg won’t mind?” John asked.

“He told me to just make sure I changed the sheets after.”

John choked back a laugh. “That’s a no, then.”

“Quite.”

Once they were both in the room, Sherlock kicked the door closed and turned to face John, who pulled him down into a kiss, his hands working the buttons on Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock slid his hands under the hem of John’s t-shirt, enjoying the way John’s muscles shifted under the skin as John pressed closer, the ridge of his erection firm against Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock dragged his lips away, pulling John’s shirt off over his head before sliding to his knees. He nuzzled against John’s hip as he unbuttoned John’s fly. John’s fingers tangled in Sherlock’s hair, not pulling, just there. Sherlock pushed John’s jeans and pants down in one motion, his mouth quickly circling John’s cock, his tongue flicking at the tip.. 

John stiffened, his fingers tightening slightly. “Fuck.”

Sherlock smiled, pulling off and running his tongue along the length of John’s erection while he helped John step completely out of his jeans and pants then ran his hands along the back of John’s legs to grip his hips and pull him closer. He slid his mouth slowly but firmly down John’s shaft while John’s breath stuttered out above him. He alternated between slow, firm drags and teasing licks at the tip until John dragged him off and up, crashing his mouth to Sherlock’s and pushing at Sherlock’s shoulder to remove his shirt.

With shaking hands, John unbuttoned Sherlock’s jeans, spun them, and pushed him to tumble on to Greg’s bed. He tugged Sherlock’s jeans off. “Christ. These are tight.” John sat back on his heels as he tugged.

Sherlock leaned up on his elbows, grinning at John’s frustration. “You made them a bit tighter.”

John huffed out a laugh and, with a final tug, Sherlock was naked. John’s gaze was suddenly intent as he leaned in to kiss the inside of Sherlock’s knee then nip at his thigh. Sherlock fell back on the bed with a surprised huff. John rose to his feet, leaning over to press a kiss to the side of Sherlock’s neck before working his way back down, across his collar bone, lapping at his left nipple while his fingers pinched the right. He slid his hand down to Sherlock’s erection, pulling slowly, teasingly, while he kissed Sherlock’s breastbone and swirled his tongue in the dip where Sherlock’s bellybutton was.

Sherlock’s skin was flushed, his breath coming in soft huffs. John pressed an open mouthed kiss to Sherlock’s left hip, and took a deep breath, slightly overwhelmed that this incredible person was laid out and apparently wanted John as much as John wanted him. 

Sherlock ran his fingers through John’s hair. “You – uh. You don’t have to. We could just – “ he pushed his hips up, pushing himself into the hand John had circling him.

John lifted his head, then shifted to kiss Sherlock’s mouth again. “No, just a little – You’re beautiful, you know.”

Sherlock gave a breathy sort of laugh as John’s mouth attached itself to his neck again, his hand still slowly stroking Sherlock. “Hardly. Besides, you’re – “

John lifted his head when Sherlock stopped talking. “Yes?”

Sherlock made a quick decision and, hooking one leg around John and flipped them so that he was straddling John. John’s hands came to rest on either side of Sherlock’s hips. “Teasing.” He leaned down and nipped the side of John’s neck. He flexed his hips, his cock sliding along John’s causing them both to hiss out. He did it again, licked his palm, and brought it down to circle them both. John arched up then brought his hand to do the same, curling their hands entirely around as they rutted against each other.

“Sherlock,” John gasped.

“Huh?”

“I’m not – “

“Me neither.” Sherlock leaned down and kissed John, who slid his free hand around to cup Sherlock’s arse, pulling them closer together. Sherlock gasped and stilled. “Fuck.”

His hips stuttered and suddenly he was spilling over their joined hands, his head thrown back. The sight sent John over the edge and soon he was doing the same as Sherlock collapsed onto his chest.

John ran his hands down Sherlock’s back as Sherlock nuzzled John’s neck. John pressed a kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head before letting his own head drop back and his eyes close. 

When his breathing evened out, Sherlock shifted to get up and John tightened his arms but didn’t open his eyes. Sherlock nudged John’s nose and said, “I’m just going to go grab something to clean up. And water. I’ll be back.” Eyes still closed, John nodded.

He heard Sherlock pad down the hall, heard him get a glass in the kitchen and water running in the bathroom, opening his eyes when something warm and wet his stomach. Sherlock was standing in the doorway, grinning as he sipped his water. John swiped at his stomach without breaking eye contact, then tossed the cloth to the floor and held out his hand. Sherlock shut the door and flipped off the light, John heard him set the glass down and felt the bed dip as he got in. John shifted to make a bit more room, tightening his arm around Sherlock’s shoulder as Sherlock draped himself across John’s chest and fell asleep.


End file.
